Life in Cartoon Motion
by Xajemm-Eater-of-GummyBears
Summary: Conrad feels worthless, he's hit rock bottom and he's determined to get up for the first time in his un-life and fight. Has the world's most pathetic vampire finally found his fangs?    Awful summary, sorry. The story's better so please read.
1. Reflections

Life in Cartoon Motion…

_So a vampire a zombie and a werewolf walk into a bar..._

Looking back on his life Conrad could only realise how little any of it meant. He had done nothing; sure he had a nice apartment and a high paying job that didn't require him to even leave the pristine reds and whites of his designer living room. He had a chance to put the one thing he really, truly enjoyed into a career, art.

But, what else did he have? He hadn't seen his mother in god only knows how long, having developed more than enough complexes in the time he had spent with her. She had seen it as a twisted competition, whoever could get diagnosed with the most issues without being locked up would get an extra prescription of ASRIs. Conrad had very nearly won, something that even he could not feel proud of. He had no real friends, only acquaintances whose names had long escaped his memory and he was sure that they struggled to remember his. He didn't think he had ever brought anyone back to the spotless interior of his home.

And now, even after death, nothing had changed. He still had the same job, the same apartment with the same pointlessly large kitchen. He still had 'Friends' that he seemed to see only in emergencies (Granted that the emergencies had taken on a much more serious note). He still didn't know all of their names, although they themselves seemed unsure on that one.

Now though, he was known and despised by people (creatures?) he'd never met, insulted by doctors that looked like they'd given more diseases than they had ever helped cure. His social circle included nameless zombies and hyperactive, childlike investigators; teenagers with pointed teeth and venom green eyes and werewolves with blue striped hair that played in bands. None of whom seemed to see anything wrong with the life of the neurotic vampire at all.

Vampires. Although Conrad would never admit it he'd always admired the smirking TV representation of these 'night terrors'. They had their hard confidence, their strength and grace, even the ability to take a beating that would crush normal people with a cocky grin plastered onto their faces. He envied their lack of remorse, their ease when seducing 'petty mortals', their hypnotic gaze and how they always seemed to be having fun.

Where had that all gone for him? He tripped over shadows, squawked at even the slightest scares, flinched at paper cuts. His strength was doubtful at best and his seduction skills left women flocking away from him rather than to him. He still got the cons, of course. He took burning up literally when he stepped into the sunlight, doors didn't have to be closed to stop him from getting past unless he was expressly invited inside, and he could smell everything – sweat, perfume, food, blood – causing him to seek recluse and making his interactions with the aforementioned doctor all the more unbearable.

His thirst was constant varying only in intensity, an often agonising reality.

So here he was, Conrad Achenleck, half-fang, Count fucking Fagula, alone and pathetic. Broken.

**A.N****: Wow, sorry that this first one's so short. The rest should be longer (fingers crossed). This is an attempt at a non-couply fic, that's right shippers no couples unless they're cannon sowee ^-^'**

**Poor Conrad though, he has absolutely no luck. Here's hoping that things get better for him, pfft yeah right.**

**Reviews are gold yadda, yadda, yadda, tell me what I did wrong and I'll do my bestest to fix it.**

**I'll update soon, second chapter's almost done just need my sis to help me rid it of glaring errors and the likes. Buh-bye now x.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of this stuff, my drawing is nowhere near good enough to pass as the creator of Hanna and co and if I did I would not be posting here now would I?**

**(P.s, Remembering Wonderland is now a no go, awfully sorry about that one. It's been too long for me to comfortably continue.)**


	2. Those awkward moments

Chapter 2

_Nice to see you, to see you..._

He stormed up the street, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck to hold off the chill that clawed at his pale skin. A woman walking the opposite way gave him a strange glance as she sauntered past in her spaghetti strap top and short skirt. She didn't feel the cold; to her it was a pleasantly warm night. She had warm blood running through her veins, keeping the cold out.

He did not.

He would soon though, if Worth didn't act like a complete ass and cause him to run off without his meal, again. It was a likely occurrence, Conrad had found his patience evaporating quicker during each encounter he had with the dubious doctor, dwindling until he was sure that just the sight of his face would elicit a strong rage inside him. Worth had noticed his loss of calm, of course he had. Worth would notice anything he could use to enrage Conrad, he took delight in the fact that Conrad was too weak, too frightened, to do him any real harm.

_He pushed open the solid door to the doctor's 'office' gritting his teeth against the strong smell of cigarettes mixing with layer upon layer of grime. He would make this quick, not wanting to spend too much time in the presence of the mysophilic doctor._

_"Hungry, Princess?" The smoker's sandpaper voice scratched his ears and he clenched his jaw. Ignore him, he thought, he wants you to snap back._

_"Wha'ss thu matter? Cat got yer tongue?" Worth was smirking, mocking Conrad was the highlight of his day, it seemed. Conrad took in a deep breath, turning towards the emaciated blonde sitting casual, arrogant in a chair that looked like it should have collapsed years ago._

_"Just give me the blood; I don't have time for this." He ground out through tight teeth, his red eyes narrowing in a glare that would be dangerous, on anyone else._

_Worth barked out a laugh, "Yeh, I'm sure yer real busy. Wouldn't want to keep yeh from hours of self depreciation."_

_A deep, unnecessary breath, Conrad narrowed his red eyes at the shady man before him before shoving past him and towards the fridge where he knew he'd find a (decently) fresh supply of blood bags. As he reached out to open the yellowed door of the mini fridge the doctor grabbed his arm opening his mouth to insult Conrad again, neither of them really expected another pale arm to come careering towards the taller man's face until a fist connected solidly with his chin sending him stumbling backwards from the now statuesque vampire._

_"Bloody hell Confags, didn' know yeh had it in yeh." The Doctor smirked again, rubbing at his bruising chin._

_Conrad let out a quiet squeak before stashing his week's supply of blood into the messenger bag he had slung over his shoulders. He stormed out before Worth said anything else, hearing his laughter echoing behind him._

_He scowled, despite hitting Worth right on his smirking face he could not feel content. He'd been played and he was sure that Worth didn't mind the extra pain. Was sure he enjoyed it even._

Conrad snapped from his daydreams abruptly as he heard a loud yowling coming from behind him. He spun rapidly, searching for the source of the noise and almost choking when he saw movement from behind a dumpster.

It was a cat, he'd been frightened by a cat. He was infinitely grateful that no one had seen his reaction, though he doubted that it could do much to damage his already meagre reputation. Glancing around he noted that he'd somehow made his way to Worth's hole-in-the-wall clinic whilst he was dazing, the thought irked him, reminding him of how heavily he relied on the blood that Worth supplied him with.

He opened the third door on the right, taking a quick steeling breath and preparing himself for whatever insult was going to be thrown at him the instant he entered.

"Oh, haha, h-hey. You're the vampire, right?"

Huh? Turning to look blankly at the dark haired man who was sitting in Worth's place, Conrad could only gawp which, obviously, was not what the man was looking for.

"Erm, heh, Luce isn't here, sorry. He said something about… err, actually he didn't really say anything."

He was… apologising? Was he sorry for Worth's absence? Conrad was sure that he was somehow expected to respond to this.

"Umm, it's… okay?" Well, that was far from profound but the dark haired man did seem to relax considerably. "He's, uh…"

The man flashed him a grin, the sort you'd probably see on shady car salesmen. "A dick?" he asked, the salesman grin still in place.

Conrad gave a slight smile in reply before gesturing towards the mini-fridge behind the desk.

"Yeah, er, do you mind if I...?" He made a vague gesture again and the dark haired man's eyes widened fractionally.

"Oh! Yeah, of course, don't let me stop you. I'm just waiting on the quack anyway."

Conrad nodded appreciatively and stepped past the other man grabbing a couple of bags of blood.

"It's pretty cool, y'know, that you – heh- that you don't... ahah." Conrad looked at the man, confused before he saw tan hands gesturing towards the bags in his hands. It took a few seconds before he understood the man's meaning, then he scowled at the ruby red bags in his pale hands.

"Oh, uh yeah, I guess so. Thanks."

He frowned again, the man was telling him it was good that he didn't hurt people, but was that really the reason that he took the blood bags? It seemed like it should be but it was wrong somehow, whenever he really thought about it he'd just been too afraid to try, it wasn't worth considering. He was disgusted, both by his weakness and his lack of regard towards human life. He shuffled towards the door, head bowed when the man spoke again.

"Hey, sorry if I offended you. I'm, uh, Lamont, pleased to meet you."

Sparing only a short glance over his shoulder to give the man a strained smile he replied.

"Conrad."

And then he left.

**A.N.****– Hey y'all, so I'm trying to put a new chapter up each week (Either on Saturday or Sunday) sorry if you think it's a bit slow but I do have school to concentrate on, can't make money writing fan-fiction after all. Anyway, this one took me ages to write, I started out with a completely different plan for it before I decided that I was going through the plot (Yes, there's a plot, fully written out in red ink ^.^) far too quickly.**

**Anyways, look at me rambling, hope you enjoyed and want to read more.**

**I know you're all tired a' hearing it but reviews really do help, thanks for reading though xx.**


	3. Ghostbusters!

Chapter 3

_Who you gonna' call?_

"So what did they say the problem was?"

They were sitting in a café of Hanna's choice with loud orange and green bean bags dotted around equally bright 'psychedelic' tables (Upon his companions' disbelieving stares the young red head had claimed that no other cafes in the area were open late). The investigator had called them over with his usual excited babble and was, as of yet, to explain the actual reason for the job.

"Oh! Right, yeah. They say that it's a banshee but…" The redhead trailed off with a vague hand gesture before the third member of their group elaborated with a simple;

"It's unlikely."

Conrad, who was clearly the least informed of the group furrowed his brows and looked at the stalwart man waiting for some form of elaboration. When it became clear that none would be forthcoming he turned instead to Hanna who seemed only too glad to explain.

"From what the guy's told us it doesn't really add up, y'know? He told us that he's not the only one that can hear it which isn't so weird if the other people were, like, family, but he doesn't have many family members visiting from what he's told us."

Conrad blinked blankly at Hanna, only vaguely understanding what he was saying. When the red head noticed his companion's blank stare he sighed and then added.

"Yeah, well it's not a banshee, probably a poltergeist or something, which would be so cool!"

That brief explanation out of the way, Hanna began to chatter excitedly for the rest of the night. Regaling various historical poltergeist incidents and bombarding his companions with ways of ridding one's home of such spectres. He continued this way with minimum input from either of his un-dead companions until an employee informed them that it was closing time. As they left Hanna briefly handed Conrad the customer's address telling him that they'd meet him there and they left it at that.

The house was nestled neatly on the edge of one of the city's higher class neighbourhoods. Large "suburban" houses lined the streets and family sedans were dotted among smooth black Porsches in large driveways. The whole place was suffocating to Conrad who'd never much liked the white picket-fenced lifestyle, reaching instead for high rise buildings and clean modern edges.

Conrad was briefly surprised by how plain the client's home was in comparison to all those surrounding it. Its garden held no plants, just a smooth grey driveway and path which neatly boxed in a patch of neglected looking grass. A small bench stood sombre in front of large windows. The door had nothing on it, not even the house number and Conrad briefly wondered whether he should just start banging on it when it swung open to reveal a tall, thin man in his late twenties glancing at him, a surprised raise of the eyebrows revealing to Conrad that his visit was unexpected.

He cleared his throat.

"Erm, hi. I'm Conrad Achenleck, I'm working with Hannah and…" He paused, what did they agree to call the zombie again? "Uh, did Mr Cross tell you that I'd be showing up?"

The man continued to stare before mumbling something quietly and turning back into the house, door swinging open behind him. He was clearly expecting Conrad to follow him.

_You have to invite me in Dumbass._

"Can I- can I come in?" Conrad called in after the man who turned back to him and again mumbled something that vaguely resembled an affirmative before storming through one of the doors to his left.

Conrad's brows knotted, was that enough? He sucked in a breath, preparing for the feeling of slamming into an invisible wall. It didn't come and he felt a lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his lips. That was easier than he'd first thought.

"Oh, hey Connie." Hannah's cheerful voice broke through his thoughts and he realised that he was just standing awkwardly with one foot and his upper body in the house, grinning like a loon. He quickly straightened himself out, trying to pull himself into a more professional stance.

He saw the quirky redhead study him, expression far too amused, and scowled at him for good measure.

"We were going to look at the attic." The zombie was standing behind his partner, golden eyes still eerily calm. The client was standing in the doorway, clearly uncomfortable in his statuesque presence.

"Yeah, Mr Rourke told us that that's where the most of the noise is coming from. Me and Alphonse thought we'd go and check it out. D'you want to poke around the rest of the house, see if you notice anything?" Hannah was trying his best to seem professional, and to be honest it was almost passable. Conrad did have to hold back a snort at the name Alphonse though; could Hannah never just pick a sensible guy's name?

Conrad turned to 'Mr Rourke' who was now eyeing him somewhat worriedly. He couldn't blame the man; being stuck in a room with the dynamic duo (Gah, Hannah's love of comic books was rubbing off on him.) would do that to anyone.

"Sure, Mr Rourke, if you could show me any problem spots?"

The man snapped out of his reverie, seeming relieved to note Conrad's relative normalcy (Oh, if only he knew.) and nodded towards him.

"Y-yes of course the kitchen's where I heard it last. Follow me." He stalked off down another door and Conrad hesitated only slightly before following. He still wasn't totally sure what he was meant to be doing, Hannah had told him that his enhanced "spook sensors" should start buzzing if there's a real spectre about. He thought back to the younger man's reassurance from the night before.

_Dude, you'll just know._

Rubbing at the bridge of his nose he stepped into the spacious kitchen (And seriously, all this room for one person?). He couldn't feel anything yet but he followed Mr Rourke around the counters to a particularly stained part of the floor. He crouched to examine the red stain - a faint smell still clung to it loosely, so faint that a human would probably never notice it, the smell of tomatoes and Basil hit his nose. Mr Rourke shifted sheepishly behind him.

"Spaghetti." He explained, rubbing the back of his neck as the tips of his ears began to redden. Conrad turned his head away quickly, throat constricting at the hint of blood pooling underneath skin. He nodded, humming softly before continuing past the stain, Mr Rourke following closely behind.

"Can you tell me what you were doing when you heard the screaming, Mr Rourke?" He asked, ever polite. The man jumped slightly, as though startled by his voice before looking at the vampire with wide blue eyes.

"Erm, I was just sitting down to eat, and, uh, call me Simon, please." He looked straight at his companion's face, trying to catch his eyes, a definite blush filling out his cheeks. _He's flirting with me!... kind of_. Conrad's thoughts churned around his head incredulously, _here I am, helping him to get rid of some spook that he claims is the bane of his existence and he's flirting with me!_

"Right… Mr- er, Simon. Where were you sitting?" Trying his hardest to look like he had a clue what he was doing, Conrad walked over to the round table neatly settled in the centre of the room. He squinted hard at the polished surface of the wood, hoping against hope that it might suddenly sprout an instruction manual on finding and exorcizing angry ghosts. No such luck.

Simon was standing behind him, uncomfortably close and fidgety and god did he have to blush? He let out a meek little cough, shifting from foot to foot as though debating what to say. He'd apparently decided on actually answering Conrad though as he coughed again before answering with yet another blush.

"I was sitting at the breakfast bar." Conrad nodded again, clearing his throat and trying to step past Simon without looking at him.

Again no such luck. A solid and only slightly shaking hand was pressed to his chest and his nose was hit by the intoxicating aroma of blood as he glanced at the blushing human before him, who was definitely getting the wrong impression.

The staring totally didn't help but Conrad was having a hard time looking away, he could see the steady flow of blood pulsing under pale skin and his throat ached. Simon (Idiot) for the most part just stared up at him, hope filtering into his lake-blue eyes and, oh yes, he was definitely getting the wrong impression. Yet Conrad still leaned forward mouth opened and that seductive little voice in his head, overruling all common sense, whispered to him. Just one bite, one little taste and we'll stop. Promise.

His trance was broken by a scream. A loud horrified scream. He whirled around, had they seen him? Oh, god no, had they seen what he was about to do? Revulsion curled in his gut but the screaming continued.

It was coming from upstairs.

**A.N.****- Oh mah gawd, I am soooo sorry. You can shoot me if you like, track me down and kill me. I really deserve it for the horrific lateness of this chapter. I can't even blame writer's block, it's been mostly finished for ages now.**

**In other news, I've had one hell of a week. Gave myself a concussion at work and then used my hulk strength to break a table by walking into it very quickly (Zowch!). Forgot all my Psychology textbooks, got screamed at by an English teacher for being rude to another English teacher who was just as puzzled as I was (Me? Rude? Never.) And I don't even get a day of work! (Continue self-pitying rant here. Sorry)**

**Ahh well, English exam next week. I'd ask you to wish me luck, but I don't deserve it.**

**Sooo sorry! Love you all xx**


	4. Sharpie stains

Chapter 4

_All things considered, I think this went stunningly well…_

Conrad barely spared Simon a glance before charging towards the screaming but that one glance was enough to tell him that the other man was terrified, with eyes wide and skin pale enough to rival Conrad's own. That open mouthed stare of dread did nothing to ease the young vampire's worries but there was no time to stop and ponder what could cause such a look, whatever had made Hanna scream was still very much a threat to be dealt with immediately and that alone had Conrad charging up the stairs towards the noise.

His rush was rewarded by his nearly running flat into a closed door, he could hear scrambling coming from the other side and grabbed at the round handle almost screaming in frustration as it refused to move. Simon had moved beside him, shaking hands nudging him gently out of the way and inserting a key into the small lock. He tried unlocking the door, twisting the key as far as it would go, before frowning in dazed bewilderment.

"I-it's already unlocked."

His voice came as a disbelieving murmur but to Conrad it was a roar, he turned back to the door slamming his palms against it in an attempt to get it to yield. The door stayed solid and Conrad resorted instead to yelling through its solid wood body.

"Hanna? Hanna, what the fuck did you do?"

His accusation was answered by a slight thump against the door as the young detective gave a less than reassuring shout back.

"Nothing to worry about Connie, just a -err- slight miscalculation. No biggie."

The screaming was still going on, seeming even to increase in volume, and Conrad felt only a fragment of relief that it wasn't Hanna's – The red head was still stuck in a room with the banshee-poltergeist-thing after all.

"Could someone please open this door?"

The sound of someone fumbling at the handle on the other side reached Conrad's ears, along with a muffled curse and a murmured incantation, before the door sprung open with a loud creak as if something was pushing hard to keep it closed. Conrad immediately stepped forward and gagged as a wave of _feeling_ crashed into him.

The wave was like nothing he'd ever experienced before, a twirling mixture of vivid emotion. He was struck by uncontrollable rage, nausea, fear and sadness each battling for dominance in his frazzled mind. He could understand clearly now why this thing screamed so often, it felt like the screaming was the only thing to express the crushing pain that had gripped his mind. His knees buckled and his vision doubled and blurred making Hanna's worried questioning ("Oh man, you don't look so hot. You okay?") appear silent and disjointed, like a series of photographs.

And then, as suddenly as it had started, the assault of alien emotions ceased, leaving Conrad curled into a gasping ball in the middle of the floor. He watched, detached as Hanna stepped towards him and the screaming got even louder, echoing around his head until he realised that it was only in his mind. He tried to reach a hand out to warn the childlike detective back but he felt paralysed from the neck down, unable to do so much as twitch his fingers as the boy was thrown back against a wall, sliding down in an undignified heap.

Pain only flashed for a second in Hanna's blue eyes before determination took its place, the detective hobbled to his feet and drew out his trusted sharpie from its place of honour in his pants pocket. He stepped past the zombie - who appeared to be frozen in his own internal conflict, his usually flat green-tinged face showing just a slight hint of tragedy – and held out one rune-coated hand towards Conrad, face set and stance tense. A blinding pink light seemed to strike the vampire straight in the chest throwing him back out into the hallway and past a startled Mr Rourke - the screaming stopped, momentarily, before starting back up inside the room away from Conrad.

The hapless vampire stood shakily to his feet, his strength returning to him slowly and he scowled. Of course there was no such thing as a simple exorcism in Hanna's books, as the boy seemed to attract only the nasty cases. He took a step towards the detective and saw that their orange clad associate had also snapped out of his daze and was standing protectively in front of the red-head in that Bad-ass way he seemed to have perfected sometime before he'd popped his clogs, face impassive as ever.

"Y-your eyes, they're red!"

Conrad spared Mr Rourke, who was now gaping up at him shocked, only one irritated glance (_They were red before too, idiot_.) before looking back to Hanna for instructions. The young magician seemed to be contemplating his next move before he turned to Conrad, a frown crinkling on his brow.

"We're gonna' have to do this by force, damn."

It was at this precise moment that Conrad was struck once again by the sheer absurdity of Hanna Falk Cross and it was at this precise moment that his infamously short temper ran out.

"Damn? DAMN? At what point, exactly, was that not the plan? We're meant to find the thing and get rid of it! No exceptions."

Hanna for his part, being used to his neurotic friend's outbursts, simply gave Conrad a pitiful look and then started scribbling a series of runes over his hands and up his arms.

"I was kinda' hoping I could talk to it, y'know, ask it to leave Mr. Rourke alone."

That's just fucking wonderful, Conrad scoffed to himself, you were just going to ask it pretty please to go away. Why do I even bother hoping? He watched with a scowl on his face as Hanna charged, manic, around the room scrawling yet more runes over the property.

"Err, how are you going to get rid of it? An exorcism?"

Conrad startled at the sound of Simon's voice behind him, he'd forgotten about the meek man's presence in the commotion. Hanna too jumped and spun on his heels to look at the hapless homeowner.

"Err, well not exactly. Poltergeists aren't really ghosts; they're more like... err, really, really weak demons. They feed off of negative emotion, which is why they usually follow teenagers from unhappy households. We're just gonna' send this one back to hell... Do you have any salt?"

_Oh, is that all then. We'll just send an angry demon kicking and screaming to hell, peasy_. The red-headed magician was still scrawling over the rooms nice clean walls -muttering about calling the... whatever it was into the room- when Conrad felt a chilling sliver of dread at the back of his neck and decided to warn his teammate by way of chanting "Ohshitohshitohshit-" and sliding to the ground. Hanna just had time to put on his game face before the screaming started again, louder and more real than ever, added to by the howling screams of both un-dead men in the room.

"No fucking way. You're gonna' stay the hell away from this house or this'll get ugly fast."

He then struck out one rune-coated palm and sent a fiery stream of red straight between the screaming men. It must have hit something because the painful echoes within Conrad's skull receded almost immediately, leaving him gasping and shaking on the floor. Alphonse was clearly faring no better as he remained leaning forward on his elbows hunched away from the rest of the group. The screaming had pulled out of his head too but he was aware of sobbing keening sounds filling the room, as though coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"I have salt! Woah shit, what happened?" Simon's re-entry to the room was met with Hanna flying towards him and wrenching the salt out of his hands. Within moments the salt was chucked towards Conrad and Hanna was barking out instructions, fully professional now that his team was in danger.

"Connie, you can see him. Put the salt in a circle around him, don't leave any gaps!"

The fact that Conrad could apparently see this creature was certainly news to him and he had no problem vocalising his thoughts.

"But I can't-" He was swiftly cut off by Hanna, giving him a fierce look.

"Just look!"

_Right, ok look Conrad duh._ How was he supposed to do this? Was there some sort of on switch for super-spook vision that he could mentally flick as he scanned the room.

There! A flicker of blue, hardly noticeable, just near the zombie's leg, if Conrad focused he could make out a strange ragged shape. He lunged forward, at the same time ripping the lid off the salt canister and spilled the salt in a wonky oblong around the flickering shape. It wasn't near circular but it was continuous and that was all that really mattered. With that out of the way Hanna immediately started chanting, holding glowing, sharpie stained hands out in front of him with a fierce expression.

After several repetitions, the noises stopped and Conrad had mustered up the breath to shout;

"What the _fuck_ Hanna?"

"Sorry about all the bother Mr. Rourke, I guess he didn't like you trying to get rid of him much."

Hanna was rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck as their client was sitting crumpled on his sofa.

"Err, Galileo'll go over our rates with you but uh, we can give you a discount for cleaning since we kinda' messed up your walls a bit -cough- sorry about that."

Conrad was standing beside the fidgety maniac as he tried to get a response out of the shocked man, clearly worried that this was going to be another one of those cases where the client refused to pay on grounds of messing his nice white walls. Conrad would've scoffed had he not known that he was likely to be one of those customers.

"Ahem, I know some, uh, cleaning charms if you want me to go upstairs and-"

"No!" Ah, there it was a response at last. "I-I'll get it, just... how much do you want."

Hanna was all too gleeful to go into prices, although considering that he'd been living off scraps for the past few weeks it was understandable.

When they had finally left the ex-haunted house Conrad couldn't resist putting in one last snarky remark.

"I should demand a fucking pay-rise for this shit."

**A.N****- Well, you'll be glad to know that I'm back... maybe... or not? I am really sorry about this one and in hopes of at least starting to make it up to you I'm bringing you two chapters today, that is if anyone'll still read this stuff.**

**I actually had this chapter finished on one of my USB sticks since I posted the last chapter because, believe it or not, I was actually prepared for once. I have no excuses for posting it this late and deserve only the most painful of deaths.**

**I will say that it wasn't good but I've fixed it up to the best of my ability.**

**If I have any readers left after this please leave a little review telling me if anything's wrong, even/especially my mythos. I want to know how I can make it better so don't hold back!**

**I still love you xxx**


	5. Friendly faces

Chapter 5

_It's oh so quiet shhh, shhh..._

_I never let friendship get in the way of a good insult, not that I have many friends..._

Casimiro and Finas were sitting quietly in their cramped apartment, both seemingly content to keep to themselves.

Whilst Finas appreciated the rare silence, he couldn't help to see the quiet as an omen and found himself filled with the same dread that a mother might feel if she hadn't seen or heard from her child since they'd disappeared into their room armed only with a wicked grin and a toy-store chemistry set some time ago. He glanced to his friend and saw him shuffling a worn set of playing cards with the tiniest of frowns on his greyish face. Definitely ominous.

"Hey, Fin. I've been thinking..." Oh dear, "and don't you think it's funny that that weird scrawny guy, you know the one with the glasses? Isn't it funny that he hasn't been taught anything? Like, nothing at all!"

The older man had to admit that he failed to see the humour in the recent 'recruit's' lack of tutelage after all, protocol dictates that a child must be trained by their sire in order to make them less likely to mess up and expose their race. Then again, Finas doubted that the exiled she-devil who (albeit accidentally) sired the neurotic young man cared much for protocol.

"I mean, sure, the old bat doesn't exactly play by the rules, but you'd think she'd use every chance she could get for more power, and a loyal little lapdog is one hell of a break, right? Even if he's weak as a baby he'd still make some decent cannon fodder.

The more stoic of the pair grimaced at the idea of the late Mr. Achenleck being used in such a way by Adelaide, although it did seem like it ought to be the likely situation. Why would Adelaide discard a chance at gaining loyal manpower?

"Maybe he refused?"

Casimiro scoffed rolling his eyes up to the ceiling (Although it was hard to tell with his left). Finas would've been offended if it weren't for the fact that he too had thought it a ridiculous suggestion.

"Yeah sure, 'cos she'd have asked real nicely I bet." It was then that his eyes lit up and a smile that screamed 'eureka' stretched across his face. It was then that Finas gave a mental wave goodbye to peace and quiet. "Hey, maybe we should show the guy the ropes. I mean, we'd get the glory for raising the little devil-spawn right. He might even turn out to be useful."

It was highly doubtful that a neurotic, one-fang would pose much use to himself and Casimiro. This was especially true when one considered that they weren't actually doing anything, and one rarely needed help with nothing.

"I think we should leave him alone. He's doing no harm as he is." Casimiro's grin faded only slightly at his companion's cool rebuttal. Clearly it was going to take some convincing to get his mind off this one and Finas vaguely wondered if vodka shots and poker might do the trick.

"Aww, c'mon. He's all lost out there, not a clue of what he can do or what he can't do. Poor little guy needs a guiding hand and who better to show him the ropes than me?"

Plenty of people, undoubtedly, would be a better tutor than Casimiro. Although the scrawny Italian did have street smarts and could move like a shadow when needed, he lacked a certain reserve. Besides, Finas remembered their last meeting all too well.

"If I remember correctly, your idea of 'showing him the ropes' was to break his nose." The poor young man almost certainly wouldn't be able to stomach 'Being a vampire 101, Cas style.'

"Exactly, that punch should've been easy to dodge! And a werewolf coming to his rescue? He needs us Fin! Needs us! We head out at sunset!"

To say that Conrad was surprised to see the two vampires standing outside of his door grinning (Or at least the one with funny eyes was grinning, he didn't think the other one actually could) would be a great understatement.

"What the- How did- where-" Apparently he was doomed not to be able to ask a question so he was only too happy when the tall (And admittedly rather frightening) one of the duo stepped forward grinning manically.

"Conrad, my man! How's it been? You adjusting to un-death yet?" Without waiting for any replies, he pushed past the floundering artist and settled himself comfortably on one spotless white sofa. His companion raised one thick eyebrow and then turned to the owner of said sofa.

"May I come in?"

Conrad, whose hands were clenching painfully into fists at the sight of shoes on his couch, gave the shorter man a "Sure, why the hell not?" before rushing over to the man, Casimiro or something, seated in his apartment and demanding he move his feet by way of shooing motions.

"We're actually here to talk to you about that. Y'see, last time we saw you we couldn't help but notice that you weren't exactly acting 'vampiric', so we were wondering if you'd even had any training."

The one-fanged vampire looked between the faces of his two 'guests', and, judging by the uncomfortable looks the larger one was shooting 'Cas', there wasn't really a whole lot of 'we' going on in the planning of this visit. It took a while for the rest of what the man had said to sink in, but once it did Conrad found himself beyond confused.

"Training? We can do tricks?"

He was only half joking. For all he knew, they could probably juggle shadows or something else suitably 'out there'. He couldn't decide which was worse, the look of pity he received from the shortest man (Fin, he believed Casimiro had called him last time) or the uproarious laughter from Cas.

"Eheh, thanks Connie, I needed that. We can turn into bats, but I guess you already knew that one. Well, we're offering you some help there. Casimiro and Finas at your service, we'll have you acting like a real vampire in no time." They thought he wanted training? This baffled Conrad, all he wanted was to be left alone and for people to stop putting their god damn shoes on his cushions.

"Seriously?" Conrad deadpanned, face flat "What if I don't want to be a 'real' vampire?"

"Connie, Connie, think of what you're saying. Do you really want to be the weakest link in that clusterfuck Cross calls a team? What use is a whiny bag of fangs that can't even block an easy little punch from me to a team of 'paranormal investigators'? Face it kid, you're useless. Might as well wear a pretty little tiara on your head and sit around pouting for all the good you're doing anyone." Casimiro remained oblivious to Conrad's quickly darkening face as he continued listing off insults, the princess jab in particular had struck hard and Finas had certainly noticed.

"Casimiro, perhaps this isn't the best-"

"GET OUT!"

The order was just barely enough to startle Casimiro out of his rant, he had actually taken to counting off different ways that Conrad was no use on his fingers, and he seemed to remember where he was and what he was trying to do.

"Heh, whoops. Sorry man, I forgot myself for a moment... err, right we'll be leaving then, let you mull things over. Here's my number for when you decide to take up our offer. See ya' Conrad!" And with that, the two vampires made their exit, leaving Conrad to fume over Casimiro's less than kind words.

How dare they, coming over to his apartment and ripping the shit out of him like they were Doc. Worth. They definitely needed to work on their selling skills if they wanted anyone to take them up on an offer, and what a dodgy thing to offer anyway. In what possible way could teaching Conrad to be a better vamp benefit them? And that arrogant git, '_when_ you decide to take up our offer' not 'if', yeah fucking right. He'd rather be a pathetic waste of blood than go through whatever torture was involved in training with Casimiro. No fucking way.

Outside of Conrad's apartment the two men stood awkwardly for a few moments before Casimiro decided to break the quiet once again.

"That went well. I think he'll call us by the end of the week." He then sauntered off in the direction of the fire exit, having decided that tonight would be a good night to go for a fly, whistling jauntily all the while. Finas gave his back one disbelieving look before following after him muttering under his breath.

"Idiot."

"I heard that!"

Finas allowed himself one small smile before hopping over the banister of the emergency staircase and taking wing.

**AN****- Nothing to say here (Original AN lost during spell checking, whoops)**


	6. And some not so friendly faces

Chapter 5

_It is a wise man who knows where courage ends and stupidity begins - Jerome Cady_

Conrad was only just calming from his fury at his unwelcome visitors (And why not? It had been so long since he'd last had a good, proper rant, mental or otherwise) when he was struck by another horrifying realisation in the form of a small gurgling sensation at the back of his throat. He was out of blood and, as if that wasn't enough to make the uptight artist even grumpier than usual, that fact could mean only one thing...

He had to visit Worth.

So it was that he found himself stumbling around for his jacket and scarf (designer, of course) and stubbing his toe on the small, ultra-modern coffee table that he'd thought was a good idea to buy, before heading out to face the cruel world once more. He stumbled down the stairs of his apartment complex, completely lacking the grace expected of 'his kind' by twi-hards and classic horror fans alike, all the while swearing like a trooper.

It was _freezing _outside and Conrad was personally quite surprised that he hadn't frozen solid as soon as he stepped out. He would have to rush if he didn't want to show up at the Docs door an icicle, _god forbid _he give the disgusting creature an excuse to 'treat' him. It was a miracle that he hadn't killed Hanna by now, although Conrad was still suspicious of the oddly rotten scent that seemed to linger with the young detective.

One advantage of the cold was that it meant the streets were relatively quiet for a... whatever day it was. Working from home and never seeing the sun could really mess up a man's sense of time - he couldn't even remember what _month_ it was. _September,_ he thought, _it feels like_ _September_.

He passed no one on his way to the back alley clinic, allowing him some peace to think over the week's events. The worst part was that it hadn't even been a bad week compared to a lot of the time he had spent with Hanna since meeting him. No, the position of worst week in Conrad's un-life could probably be handed to the week when Hanna and co. had been tasked with hunting rage demons through the city sewers (A difficult task since, contrary to popular movie-based belief, a human being cannot possibly walk through sewers) and had spent most of the time running around peering into manholes and trying to get 'really pissed off'. They had all decided that Conrad was the easiest to enrage (and his squawks to the contrary did little to further his cause) and had simply stood insulting him and starting fights. When the creatures _finally_ came out from their hidey-holes, capturing the _adorable_ little bundles of hellfire without being burned alive had proven itself to be an entirely different task. Conrad still shuddered at the memories.

He had just made it into the dark alleyway that led to the clinic and he stopped to take a deep breath, perhaps to increase his chances of reaching that elusive state of calm he'd heard others talk about, before he froze. He could smell people, which normally wouldn't be odd, but these people seemed to be pretty close behind him. Again Conrad was astonished by his own pathetic tendency to notice nothing outwith his own bubble of thought and, as he turned to face these people, he thought that he really should start paying attention better.

A scruffy young man, dirtier even than Worth, which in itself was miraculous, was standing at the front of a group of maybe four men. He stepped towards Conrad with a very deliberate grin, somewhat ruined by the blackened nature of his teeth, and held forward his hand. Conrad could have sworn he felt his heart beat at that moment, which was disturbing on whole new levels, his eyes glued to the man's hand. He was holding a gun.

"Nice bag." the man commented conversationally, almost as though talking to a friend rather than a stranger held at gunpoint, "Can I have it?"

It was then that Conrad did something incredibly stupid. He got indignant.

He was a _vampire_ for Christ's sake! That these guys were pointing a gun at him and asking for _his_ bag was unreal! He was dimly aware of the dirty man at the front flinching and raising his gun higher and felt a surge of confidence as his vision took on a slight red tinge. He puffed out his chest.

"No." he said. It was simple, non-threatening and it certainly should not have earned a choked out;

"What the fuck?" and a bullet to the chest. Well, that was really not...

"Ow." was the last noise Conrad made before he saw a flash of silver and promptly passed out.

When he awoke it was to the overwhelming scent of smoke and for one dumb moment he thought he might be in hell. Then his senses cleared and he pinpointed the smell as that of cheap cigarettes and stale sweat. Not hell then, but arguably just as bad.

He opened his eyes, too fast, and groaned as he was assaulted by bright fluorescent light. He hadn't remembered Worth having such bright lighting but as he blinked dazedly the light faded into the familiar yellowed glow and Conrad realised he was laying on the filthy operating table that Worth apparently worked on. He scrambled into a sitting position with a disgusted little cry and tried to jump to his feet. He instead found himself crumpled in a rather undignified heap on the clinic's floor. That was definitely not an improvement.

"Finally decided ter grace us with yer presence princess?"

That voice was unmistakeable but instead of eliciting an angry comeback the crumpled vampire only looked levelly at the Doctor trying to sort through his thoughts.

"What happened?" he asked eventually, slow and deliberate and it seemed to surprise the Doc for a split second before he scoffed down at the black haired man and reached down to yank him up by the collar of his shirt (Which, Conrad couldn't help but notice, was half open. He looked around and saw a small medical tray with a scalpel and tweezers coated in a thick dark liquid that, if it were lighter, would look like blood. Next to them was a single bullet.)

"Got yersel' shot, didn' you peaches?"

Well, he knew that already, and what _was_ it with Worth and all those ridiculous 'pet names' of his? Princess would surely suffice; then again the mix _did_ work to frustrate Conrad quite efficiently. The vampire just stared a little more and Worth turned away muttering about pathetic wastes of space and the like. He threw Conrad's carrier bag at him and folded gracelessly into the wheeled chair near the corner of the room, hands pressed together as if he was preparing to give a disapproving speech as any other Doctor might have. Instead he only said one thing.

"Sorta' vamp are you anyway? Can' even save yer own hide."

Conrad scowled at the Doctor's comments before noticing the way he was sitting. It looked like he was relieved and that was almost touching, almost. Conrad couldn't call the man a friend, not really but he did hold some sort of grudging affection towards him. They were 'teammates' of sorts after all and even their fights could be quite amusing, although usually more so for Worth. He didn't comment on it however, it would only earn him a mocking comment and Conrad didn't feel like dealing with that right now.

Instead he looked down at his chest, trailing pale fingers over the spot where he'd felt the bullet enter before. There was that same dark bloodlike substance dried around the area but no wound and he couldn't help but wonder at that. It was the first real proof of his own vampirism he had seen. Even the purpled marks from Adelaide's bite hadn't faded a bit, instead remaining as bloodless holes in his neck. He had actually started to believe that the tiny amount of blood Hanna had been able to scrape off his hammer was not enough to give him anything but the bad bits of vampirism, accelerated healing was a bonus he'd take without complaint however.

Worth seemed to be holding back on his usual insults and Conrad couldn't decide if that was good or not. He was sitting in the corner still, scowling and fiddling with a cigarette and the vampire got the impression that he wanted to hit something.

"What happened to... err, those guys?"

It probably wasn't the best idea to ask Worth, not if he was interested in an honest answer, but all Conrad wanted was a distraction from the ringing in his head and the smirk he got in return worked just fine.

"Reckon ye' scared them off. Mighta' been all that hairspray ye' use." Then again, perhaps a ringing head wasn't so bad. It seemed like a bad idea to invite provocation when he was as hungry as he was and he'd really hate to do something stupid like attack the hack (Especially since it was appearing increasingly unlikely that Conrad would win as he saw all the many sharp objects that were lying around. He held no illusions that the back alley doctor fought fair.) Instead of responding he pinched the bridge of his nose, huffed out a sigh and glanced up at Worth with a relatively steady gaze.

"I'm going to grab my blood and leave now." Was all he said as he stormed past the doctor to grab his coat frowning looking down at it. It was ruined but he supposed getting shot would do that. No one should notice this late at night and hey, maybe it would deter people from approaching him if he was walking covered in blood and with a bullet hole just above his collarbone.

When he'd grabbed his things and headed out Worth's voice floated after him just before the door had closed.

"Don't get mugged." followed by a loud cackle.

Conrad almost managed not to get angry. Almost.

**AN****- Well, I have been having one hell of a time trying to log into this damn site, has anyone else been getting this issue? I know my laptop has been fritzing for about a year but that sure as hell never stopped me before.**

**Anyway, I am ultra-sorry guys. You have permission to do whatever you may wish to me, just don't cut off my hands I need those.**

**Here is the beautiful chapter 6, I almost feel sorry for Conrad. Don't worry, things get better for him, not anytime soon but they do eventually start looking up.**

**Reviews are golden, please if there's anything wrong with the fic or my canonical understanding tell me. I'll listen to everything you guys say and look it all up, if you point out a mistake even in chap one, I will change it. If you want to point out a mistake but don't want to post a review, feel free to pm me (that goes for anybody who wants to lecture me about schedule keeping too).**

**Love you all, Xajemm xx**


	7. Off to a great start

Chapter 7

"_A man's health can be judged by which he takes two at a time – pills or stairs." – Joan Welsh_

Finas found it difficult to hide his displeasure that night as he stood at the door of Casimiro's new trainee's apartment. He was sure that discontent was rolling off of his body in tangible waves and, whilst outwardly silent, his mind was filled with childish whining to the tune of '_But I don't wanna' help him!'_.

He really didn't hold a grudge against the fledgling. The man seemed sensible enough in some aspects of his life and he certainly wasn't intolerable. His problem was just that training the young one to become a hunter was a huge commitment and he doubted that the man's obvious neurosis would help matters. As a hedonist at heart, Finas _hated_ commitment and so had Casimiro. Until recently it seemed.

He was curious though, he had to admit at least that to himself. There were many things about Conrad's condition that puzzled him and he would need to look into. There was the matter of the unfading bite-mark on his neck that should have been long healed by now, the only reason he could think of was that he'd been starving himself. Even then, the process would only be slowed not halted all together. His single fang was a concern too, Finas knew that Conrad had been given only a minute amount of Adelaide's blood but an incomplete transformation had _never_ been recorded even on absolute minimum volumes of blood. He could only hope the abnormality was temporary, as well as the fledge's apparent physical weakness. There were many things that made little sense and he would be interested in finding out the limits of this man's abilities.

Conrad finally came to the door after an uncomfortable wait, eyes bleary and glasses perched awkwardly on the tip of his nose (that was another thing, how could he need spectacles? He should have perfect vision). He looked at the two men on his doorstep in apparent surprise mouth gaping open slightly as he took in the very different expressions on the men's faces.

"Conrad! Good to see ya', ready to get started?" Casimiro had stepped forward, hand clasped firmly on Conrad's shoulder offering no room for escape. He seemed more than happy to show him the ropes and before Conrad had a chance to reply he was being dragged out of his own door and towards the fire-escape.

"Wuh-wait, hang on!" The boy cried, clearly flustered as he broke free of Casimiro's grasp (_huh, perhaps he does possess some strength_) and disappearing back into his ridiculously organised apartment. He re-emerged with keys in hand and locked the door before turning back to the vampires before him. "I, er, honestly thought you wouldn't show up." He admitted to them, brows furrowed in confusion.

Finas wanted to reply, perhaps something along the lines of 'I find myself quite surprised too.' but Casimiro beat him to it.

"We said we would didn't we?" _No. _"Never break a promise. 'Sides, it almost pains me to see somebody as unprepared as yourself brave the streets." And that right there screamed of bullshit and ulterior motive. Conrad looked like he'd noticed but wisely chose not to comment. It was clear, much to Finas' amusement, that the neurotic young man was terrified of his companions. He sighed and brought a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

"Where are we going exactly?"

Casimiro's grin, if possible, only widened. "Right, follow me!" he then stormed back over towards the fire escape, stepping easily out into the cool night air Conrad and Finas following closely behind him. They had agreed not to fly, unsure whether Conrad would be able to turn into a bat at will and Casimiro instead opted for vaulting over the railing at the edge of the fire escape platform, dropping easily to the ground several floors below.

Conrad visibly blanched.

"Heh, can we take the stairs?" He sounded frightened. That would almost certainly not help him, although Finas understood his anxiety. He himself was not particularly fond of heights.

"Aww, come on Connie! It's not a big drop." Yes, Casimiro had latched onto the boy's worry. He had always found it amusing when others were frightened at what he considered an easy task. "I can catch you if you want."

Conrad's nerves were calmed none by that and he looked at Finas with wide, panicked eyes. The older man sighed.

"It will not hurt. I can show you." he flinched inside as soon as he'd said it. _Show you? Show him what? How to jump?_ Conrad was, however, looking at him quite expectedly as if waiting for a demonstration of some magical vampire trick to hopping a railing. Finas wondered briefly if he shouldn't make a show of it before remembering that, whilst he didn't want to be here, he really didn't have anything against the frightened man. He opted instead for planting his hands on the cold metal of the rail and swinging his legs over, landing gracefully on the ground with the slightest bending of his knees. It was then, with the morbid satisfaction of an individual watching a freak show, that he turned to see Conrad inhale deeply and lean warily over the barrier. It didn't look promising and a glance towards Cas confirmed that he was waiting with glee for Conrad to land on his backside or better yet, his _head_.

Conrad was now lifting himself up and Finas found himself almost unable to look away, the boy looked so fragile and seeing such a weak frame all the way up there was unnerving. Maybe it was too big of a drop, he wasn't even a real vampire and-

"Oof!"

_What?_ Finas blinked slowly and noted with a dull start that Conrad wasn't on the fire escape anymore. Instead he was falling face first towards the ground with a look on his face that screamed of terror. _Had he actually __**fallen**__? What the __**hell**__ sort of vampire couldn't stay on a ledge?! They were training __**him**__?! _His mind raced on as he stared in awe at the sorry display.

Finas found himself stalking away, less than impressed as Conrad landed in an undignified pile behind him. He spared only one glance over his shoulder to give the fledgeling a piercing glance before stating calmly:

"I do not believe _that_ was how I showed you."

As he walked on Casimiro's booming laughter echoed behind him, it was to become the soundtrack to their training.

**So…. Hi. I'm aware I've been gone a while (Long enough that I'm surprised I still get readers) but err, here I am with another chapter and a boatload of apologies for everyone who's been patiently awaiting an update. Also, remarkably, during my absence I got some new followers so welcome! Hopefully I don't suck as hard this time round as I did last **

3


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